


Let it not be me.

by destielpasta



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Communication, Fighting, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Injury, M/M, Making Up, Post Season 7, Post-Canon, Relationship Development, at least post current canon, shiro and keith finally get to talk about their feelings, this is a whole mess of emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: Keith goes on a mission to obtain Galra intel, his lips still tingling from his first kiss with Shiro. When Keith gets gravely injured, they are forced to confront their past baggage, their present issues, and the feelings they have developed for each other along the way.





	Let it not be me.

“Pidge, get on my right so I can cover you!”

“On it!”

Keith swings around, blocking the fire coming from the cruiser. It’s still far away, and it’s only one Galra cruiser.

He dodges an ion cannon blast. 

“Pidge you ok?”

“All good Keith!”

Keith scowls at the cruiser, scoping it out for weaknesses. Since Lotor’s death scores of Galra officers had gone rogue, so now a typical imperial cruiser that used to be a piece of cake has an acid-based flamethrower upgrade. Definitely not standard issue.

“Agh!” Keith grunts as he hooks a quick left, narrowly dodging the flames.

“Careful!” Pidge yells into his headset.

Keith grits his teeth against the biting comment in the back of his throat, giving the mission his full focus. Pidge needs to latch onto the belly of the Galra pirate cruiser, install a virus into their system, and upload the ship’s records into the Garrison’s system. They hope to figure who or what organization is supplying Galra pirates with non-standard weapons. The knowledge could tip the war in their favor.

Another beam of purple fire explodes in front of him. He rears back, blocking Pidge and slamming his bayard into the dock.

“Shield!”

The heat radiates through the shield, but it holds.

“Go now!”

Pidge sneaks out from under the blast, quick and nimble as she maneuvers around to the underside of the cruiser in cloaked invisibility mode.

“I’m in!”

Keith takes a deep breath, getting a visual of Pidge in her space suit underneath the cruiser before speeding away. She has to unscrew a panel and implant the virus manually before being spotted.

His job is simple: draw their fire.

He goes over the ship, three fighters on his tail and gaining fast. He spins, avoiding a purple beam shot out from one of them and returning fire. One of the them explodes, clearing his path. He smirks, one or two fighters would be a easy—

His eyes widen when he clears the top of the ship.

“Shit.”

At least one hundred Galra fighters rise to meet him, their ships mutated and ugly with modifications.

“SHIT.”

He peels away, drawing them away from the cruiser and away from Pidge. They fire on him immediately, and his screen fills with lock-on icons, the lion’s alarms blaring. He evades, but one clips the lion’s left leg, sending him spinning.

“Keith! What’s going on up there?” Pidge says, her voice garbled over the comm link.

The Black Lion re-orients itself. “Fighters! Stay sharp down there. Get the job done!”

“I’m running into more firewalls than expected!”

“What???”

Another hit, this time to the lion’s shoulder. Keith sees the sparks outside the cockpit window.

“Keith. Give us a report.”

Another voice chimes in on his intercom, calmer than Pidge’s.

“Shiro.” Keith grips the steering wheel tighter, dodging another beam. “Pidge hit a snag, and I’ve got about a hundred fighters on me—“

“I’m coming,” Shiro says. “Hang tight. We’ll be right there.”

Keith exhales as Shiro’s voice cuts out, blasting another fighter out of his way. Focus. _Focus._

He narrows his gaze, clearing his head, circling up and around to get an eye on Pidge.

“What’s your status?” He says into the intercom.

“Almost got it! Just another minute then— whoa!”

“Pidge!”

Pidge’s communication system goes offline.

Keith drops into a dive, towards her las location. He draws up quickly, and a few Galra fighters are caught off guard, spinning into the cruiser and crashing.

The Black Lion protests, pulling at Keith to get him out of there.

“Never knew you to shy away from a fight,” Keith says to the disgruntled lion. “Red would love this.”

The Lion growls and circles around, blasting away at least a dozen more fighters on its own.

He grins. “That’s more like it!”

Shiro’s face appears on his screen. Behind him, Keith sees the giant body of the Atlas.

“Keith, Pidge, we’re about to fire up the teleduv, what’s your status?”

Pidge’s comm link beams in alongside Shiro, strapped back in her lion. “We’ve gotta go, now!”

Keith turns, heading for the drop point with Pidge following behind. “Alright, get us out of here Shiro—“

Another fighter appears on Keith’s left, and he jams the stick, dodging its shot by an inch and firing back to protect Pidge. The maneuver puts him nose to nose with the Galra cruiser.

Purple fire fills his windshield.

“Keith!”

When the heat clears, he’s spinning. He smells something burning. Lights flash across his face shield.

Space suit integrity: 35%

He tries to fire his boosters but they sputter and fail. Disoriented, he reaches out, but he flails blindly, meeting bare space. The suit’s oxygen level flashes across his screen, a number in the lower double digits. He squints, his head swimming.

Everything starts to slow, and his vision fades around the edges. His fingers are numb and cold in his gloves. He thinks about the weird Altean-Human combo meal Hunk had fixed him for breakfast, and how Shiro had leant in kissed him before he got into the Black Lion, leaving Keith breathless and confused. It had been so loud in the hangar, and the moment so quick–  Keith hadn’t even been able to kiss him back.

Before he passes out, he feels a presence behind him. Something wraps around his waist and tugs gently, and he smells a familiar, ionic smell…

*

*

*

*

“Get him out of his suit!”

Keith’s eye’s crack open long enough to be blinded by a bright service light above him. There’s a flurry of activity around him. People run past the door yelling orders on the edge of his vision. He tries to sit up but a hand meets his chestplate and pushes him back down.

“Oh no you don’t–”

“He’s up, we have to act fast–”

Keith looks around wildly, absently recognizing a couple field medics from the Atlas hovering over him. Was he inside the Atlas? Impossible, that would mean…

“Where’s the Black Lion?” He says, his voice harsh and rasping against his throat.

“Keith, we know you’re confused but you have to stay still.”

“Get a sedative.”

Keith tries to sit up again, nauseous from the room spinning above him. “Where’s Shiro–  Pidge– What happened?”

They don’t answer him, but he happens to look to his left, registering that there is a disintegrating and twisted space suit sitting on top of his arm. He tries to move his arm out of the way and is met with searing pain. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them down.

The medic hovers above him. “You’ve got to stay still Keith, I’ve almost got this–  There!”

The pain hazes over Keith like a gauze blanket, clouding his vision.

“Shiro told me to– he told me the mission could stop the war–” His tongue is thick in his mouth. “He said only I could do it–”

He registers a jab in his right arm, and then everything fades back into darkness.

*

*

*

*

Something is beeping.

Keith focuses on it, counting each sound in his head. For a moment, it’s strong, then grows faint just as quickly. Something is trying to drag him back under, _the good drugs_ , he thinks absently, but he doesn’t want to sleep anymore.

He opens his eyes.

He’s in a typical Garrison hospital bed, his body hooked up to a machine next to him. His arm is covered in bright white bandages. Shiro is there.

He’s fast asleep, leaning on Keith’s bed with his head resting on his arms. He’s still wearing the black, form-fitting clothes they wear under their space suits. His hair is matted against his head on one side, indicating that he had probably just turned over.

Slowly, Keith lifts his hand. He doesn’t feel any pain, so he goes ahead and brushes it against Shiro’s arm.

Shiro flinches, his eyes fluttering open. He sits up when he sees Keith awake.

“Hey, you’re up.” His hand slides down, on top of Keith’s.

Keith stares at their joined hands, foggy brain barely able to absorb the image. He looks away, instead trying to sit up. He grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut to ride out the pain radiating from his bandaged arm.

“Unfortunately,” he responds finally, eyes watering.

Shiro’s chair scrapes against the ground. “I’ll get the nurse, you should probably have more pain meds–”

“No, it’s ok,” Keith says, gripping Shiro’s hand in earnest, pulling him back down. “Stay. I’m sorry. I won’t do that again.”

Shiro laughs, just an exhale and a half-smile.

“You had us really scared for a minute.”

Keith coughs, his throat dry and pasty feeling. Shiro hands him a glass of water from the nightstand.

“Thanks,” Keith says. “How long has it been?”

“Three days.”

He grimaces again. Keith remembers the mission, the unexpected amount of Galra fighters, Shiro coming to help–  then nothing but the purple fire against the Black Lion’s windshield and spinning through space.

“What about the mission? Where’s Pidge?”

“Pidge is fine, just a few bumps and scrapes.” Shiro smoothes the bed sheet with his free hand. “You did great, Keith. You should be proud you and Pidge got out alive.”

Keith sighs. “So we didn’t get the intel.”

Shiro looks down. “No. They detected Pidge and she had to get out of there. She was trying to get to you and didn’t see their fire. You saved her.”

Keith nods, throat thick. “The Black Lion?”

Shiro frowns. “Sustained some damage to the cockpit, which is how you got thrown out into space. Coran and Allura have been on it, but it’s slow going, and you’ve been our priority.” His gaze flicks over to Keith’s left arm, where it’s bandaged from the shoulder down.

Keith sighs, biting his lip. “How bad is it? My arm?”

Shiro strokes the back of Keith’s hand with his thumb, the wheels turning behind his eyes. He’s choosing his next words carefully, always the diplomatic leader. He had looked the same in the Atlas’s hangar before the mission, held Keith’s hand in the same way.

_Keep your wits about you, Keith. First sign of something fishy and you call us. If I had a choice–_

Keith had turned around, ready to make some shithead witty comment, and Shiro had pulled him close and kissed him, all hurry and no finesse, then snapped Keith’s helmet into place and headed to the command deck before Keith could utter a word in return. The alarm sounded a moment later: everybody to their places.

“You’re going to make a full recovery. It’s just going to take some time.”

Keith looks out the window. A desert bird lands against the sill, pecking at something he can’t see. After a moment, it flies away.

He slips his hand away from Shiro’s, rubbing it against his own face.

“How much time?”

“Keith.”

“Just _tell_ me, Shiro.”

Shiro’s eyes narrow. “The doctor will talk to you. And don’t be stupid. We had you in a healing pod for twenty-four hours before Allura realized that it wasn’t counteracting whatever nightmare the Galra have concocted now. The acid burned through the Black Lion and through your space suit in seconds. They had to do emergency surgery to do the skin graft.”

Keith chooses to ignore the catch in Shiro’s voice.

“You could have lost your arm.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut. Shiro’s Altean prosthetic glows even under the bright hospital lights.

“I think I might need those pain meds after all.”

The chair scrapes against the floor again.

“I’ll go get a nurse.”

He cracks his eyes open once Shiro’s footsteps fade away, inhaling and sighing deeply. The room feels less claustrophobic without Shiro in it, but also emptier. His lower back aches like hell and he attempts to adjust himself again, balancing his weight on his right side only this time. It’s mildly successful, and he gets to feel a little distracted and proud of himself for about twenty seconds.

Shiro returns a few moments later, standing at the foot of his bed while a Garrison nurse checks his vitals and asks him a few questions. Numbness? _Nope_ . Dizziness? _It goes in and out._ Any pain? _Loads_.

In the end she gives him the pain meds, warning that they might make him sleep again. Not too raw of a deal, especially since sleeping means he doesn’t have to think about how he would be laid up again for weeks. Months? Who knows? All with a failed mission hanging over his head and a Shiro who seemed more ready to yell at him than explain himself.

The nurse leaves, the drugs already coursing through Keith’s system. He feels warm all over, a fresh sense of numbness settling in to replace the pain. It’s enough that when Shiro sits back down, Keith takes his hand again.

He’s loose now, his nerves dissipating with the pain.

“I have no idea what any of this means,” he says.

Shiro purses his lips. “Your injury or…”

“Shiro.”

Shiro swallows, his jaw tense. “I saw the Black Lion go up in flames. We had a visual of you up on the center screen, to assess the danger we were going into. You went up in flames and I saw you get sucked out of the cockpit. I thought you had been engulfed by the flames. They were asking me what to do.”

Keith looks down. “What did you do?”

“I went and got you.”

Keith nods. He remembers now, how Shiro had been there to fly him back to the Atlas in nothing but his space suit, the Galra fighters still raining fire on them.

“Thank you,” Keith says, his throat thick. “For that.”

Shiro nods, looking down at their joined hands. He leans over, resting his head against them.

“Keith.” He says it like a prayer.

Keith watches him, but feels the pull of sleep moments later. He closes his eyes, letting it overwhelm him.

*

*

*

*

The doctor tells Keith that even with accelerated healing and the finest government issued painkillers, he still needs at least three weeks rest followed by physical therapy to get normal function back in his arm. He also suffered a minor concussion and three clean lacerations to his shoulder, keeping him tethered to the hospital room for at least another week.

“I feel like I just got out of a hospital bed,” Keith says to the Paladins surrounding him. They had arrived as soon as Shiro could let everyone know he was up. “Now I’m back in it.”

Pidge fidgets a lot, the guilt evident on her face.

“If you hadn’t blocked me—“

“Pidge. I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t cover you long enough to get the name of the weapons manufacturer.”

“Let’s just blame the bad orders you received,” Lance interjects. “Obviously you were outgunned, how could the Garrison not know that?”

“Shiro gave the order,” Keith says, voice flat.

Everyone freezes.

Lance deflates. “Oh. Well— you know— everyone makes mistakes—“

Allura slaps a hand over his mouth. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead, shall we?”

Lance folds his arms grumpily.

“What Lance was _trying_ to say is that we’re still waiting on so many things to come together,” Hunk says. “Everything is up in the air. You don’t have to worry that you’re missing anything. Just worry about getting better.”

Keith pouts. Pidge gives him a pillow to scream into. It helps a little, but his mood his sour even after the Paladins say goodbye.

A week after the failed mission he wakes up from a nap to Shiro leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and looking very pleased with himself.

“What?” Keith says, grumpy and needing more pain meds.

Shiro smiles, nodding his head towards the other side of the room. Keith looks toward the window, where Krolia sits dozing in a chair next to the bed.

He looks back to Shiro. “How— she’s supposed to be on a mission for the Blade right now.”

Shiro shrugs, taking the other chair. “She did a check-in with the Garrison. I figured she would have kicked my ass if she found out I didn’t tell her you were injured when I could have. She came right away.”

“What about her mission?”

“Kolivan took over.”

Keith nods, grinning. “Bet she loved that.”

Not counting the abyss, Krolia had spent more time with him injured than not. She hadn’t left after the fight with Sendak and the space robot until he was cleared for duty, and even then had to be convinced.

She’s sound asleep, her chin resting against her chest.

“She wanted to be here for you, there wasn’t any question,” Shiro says.

Keith bites his top lip. It’s new for him, to have family.  Shiro had been the closest thing for a long time.

“Thank you,” Keith says. “For telling her.”

Shiro sits back in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

Keith swallows. When he had first woken up, Shiro had sat forward in his chair, holding Keith’s hand and speaking softly. Now, there’s distance.

His arm throbs steadily, the pain like pins and needles that never lets up. He closes his eyes.

“Do you want to rest? Should I go?” Shiro asks.

Keith sighs. “No.”

“Are you sure—“

He opens his eyes, staring. “Yes.”

Shiro had already been half out of his chair. He lowers himself down, looking at Keith expectantly.

Keith gazes up at the ceiling, counting the tiles as his face burns.

“You didn’t let me say anything.”

He lets the words permeate. The lights are dim; normal visiting hours are over. He turns to meet Shiro’s eyes.

“You kissed me, and you didn’t even let me say anything.”

Shiro doesn’t answer at first. Keith had noticed that Shiro looked younger now, with his hair one color. Or maybe they had just caught up to each other.

He meets Keith’s eyes. “I didn’t plan that.”

Keith drums his fingers against the bed. “You put my helmet on for me. Seemed like you didn’t want me to say anything.”

Shiro sighs, holding his head in his hands. “It was a bad idea.”

Keith clenches his fist, the rough blanket stamping indentations onto his hand.

“Putting on my helmet or—“

“Keith—“

“I’m just not sure what you mean, Shiro.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Keith winces and releases the blanket, his arm stinging. He hadn’t realized how much holding it had been hurting him.  

Shiro reaches forward, concern clouding his eyes.

“Keith...“

Krolia stirs beside him, stopping whatever Shiro was about to say.

“You’re awake!” She says, leaning forward to carefully wrap her arms around Keith. “I must have dozed off.”

Keith looks away from Shiro, raising his good arm to hug her back.

“Thanks for coming, mom.”

Shiro makes a quiet excuse before slipping out.

*

*

*

*

After two weeks in the infirmary, Keith is allowed to return to his room with strict instructions to keep his arm in a waterproof sling when he showered and to come to the infirmary every day for physical therapy. He lowers his bag with his good arm, setting it on the floor and poking around to make sure Hunk had really put his space suit in the closet and stowed his blade in the safe under his bed like he had asked.

Besides those few possessions, it’s barely his room, just a space given to him by the Garrison when they returned to Earth. It’s better than the crowded cadet barracks, where the lack of privacy had driven him out to the desert more than once back in the old days. Shiro had always been there to steer him back before the upper ranks found out, until one day, he hadn’t been.

He sits down, gently stretching his arm over his chest the way the physical therapist had shown him. It’s free of the bandaging, covered instead with a breathable sleeve that will aid in healing. The graft had completely adjusted to his skin, but left him feeling stiff and sore. And cranky, Krolia had said.

He drops his arm. He hadn’t told Krolia that it wasn’t the only thing putting him in a sour mood. She had left two days before when the doctors had given pronounced his skin graft a success. She had offered to stay, but Keith knew how important her mission was. She promised to visit as soon as she could, and that promise meant the world to him anyway.

There’s a quick knock at his door.

“Yeah?” he calls.

Pidge sticks her head through the door.

“Hey,” she says. “I went by the infirmary and they said that you were discharged.”

“That’s right.”

Pidge frowns. “You didn’t tell anyone.”

Keith sighs. He hadn’t even thought about it. “Sorry, I just wanted to come back here and get settled.”

Pidge looks around the almost empty room like she wants to comment.

She smiles instead. “Well, I was just going to meet Hunk and Lance for dinner. I thought I’d see if you were up to it.”

Keith doesn’t feel up to much. He had planned on staring at his ceiling. Pidge looks at him hopefully.

“I don’t think so.” As much as he wants to please Pidge, the thought of a crowded cafeteria full of arrogant pilots was enough to set his teeth on edge. “Maybe another night?”

Pidge looks disappointed, but smiles. “Ok. Another night then.”

Keith huffs, gesturing around the room. “I’m probably just going to go to bed. Injuries make me boring.”

Pidge doesn’t take the bait. “You need to rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Keith nods, waving. “Yeah. See you.”

Pidge smiles, closing the door behind her with a click. Keith realizes he hadn’t even invited her inside.

He should sleep.

He flops back, throwing his good arm over his eyes. The pain in his other arm aches powerfully, and his access to the good painkillers had been cut off. Garrison rules. Can’t have a bunch of junkie cases running around the place with expensive and often _explosive_ equipment. It pulses through his arm and to the rest of his body, burning like the purple fire that had engulfed the Black Lion.

It’s no good. He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. It’s getting too long. Krolia had said it the other day, and Shiro had agreed. He didn’t mention that the only barber he had ever had was his father, and then his blade after he died.

Sighing, he gets out of bed, slipping into his boots. The sun is setting over the desert, and most of the Garrison should be done with dinner and settling in for the night. Despite the pain, he’s restless.

The hallway is mostly deserted. He nods at cleaning staff and cadets he passes, smiling tightly at their weirdly awestruck expressions and the even weirder salutes. They thin out as he approaches the Atlas’s hangar. As a paladin he has an access code to see the Black Lion, but his hand hovers over the touchscreen. Seeing Black damaged might do him more harm than good at this point.

The door opens before he can make the choice.

“Oh, Hello Keith,” Allura says, looking mildly surprised. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Better, really.” He lowers his hand.

Allura smiles. “Well it’s good to see you up and about. What are you doing here?”

Keith shrugs. “I thought I would see how the repairs are going on the Black Lion.”

Allura’s face falls somewhat, and he notices that she looks more tired than usual.

“Oh, well. Coran and I have been working hard, but it’s a slow process. We don’t have the resources here like we did on the Castle of Lions, even with the Altas running on a Bolmeran crystal now.”

Keith sighs, the knot in his stomach tightening. “Can I see?”

Allura purses her lips, but then turns, beckoning for him to follow.

It’s cool and dim inside the hangar, the click of their heels echoing off of the walls. Keith shoves his hands into his pockets, letting Allura lead him up the gangplank into the charging units for the lions. It feels strange to be in the atlas wearing his boots and street clothes, his arm out of commission and his head full of cotton. The last time he had been here he had been sharp and ready for the mission, until Shiro had kissed him.

“Here we are,” Allura says, false cheeriness coloring her tone as the Black Lion comes into view.

“Oh Black,” Keith whispers.

The entire right side of the Black Lion’s cockpit is gone, exposing jagged metal and the twisted remains of what must have been the control panel. The particle barrier is down, but covering the wound is a sheer, holographic pattern that resembles snake skin. It glows a golden yellow.

“What is that?” Keith asks, walking closer to get a better look.

“We’re not sure,” Allura says. “We believe the Lion is trying to heal himself, and is succeeding. Data shows that it’s working, it will just take time.”

“Time,” Keith says. Allura had echoed Shiro’s earlier statement. “We don’t really have time, do we?”

He says the last statement with a grin, turning so that Allura sees it. He wouldn’t want her to think he’s not grateful.

She returns it. “No, we don’t. Which is why Coran and I will keep trying to speed up its process. For all intents and purposes the Lion is flyable, but we are not able to repair the external damage without extreme resistance from its will.”

Keith looks at the Lion again. It sits still, as if waiting for battle and not healing from a devastating injury.

“He wants to do it without help.”

Allura steps up beside him. “Precisely.”

They watch the lion in silence for a few minutes, Allura occasionally offering more information. Keith is content to nod and let his frown lines sink deeper and deeper into his face. After a few more exchanges, Allura excuses herself. Keith stays.

He sits cross legged on the floor, staring up at the Black Lion as it takes its sweet time healing itself. He tries to reach out, to feel for the Lion’s consciousness, but comes up empty handed.

“You feel like a failure too?” He asks out loud.

Nothing.

Keith remembers being like that. Alone. Unable to accept help. It’s what got him kicked out of the Garrison in the first place. Someone had asked _Are you alright, Keith_ and instead of answering Keith had swung out with his fists, the words _Pilot Error_ still burned behind his eyelids.

He had grown out of that. All of the paladins had grown out of something.

“You ok?”

Keith had heard Shiro’s footsteps as soon as he stepped onto the Atlas. Slow and steady, like a windless rain in the desert. When Keith turns, Shiro stands practically at parade rest, his hands behind his back.

“Yes,” Keith says. “Can’t say the same for Black.”

Shiro’s jaw tenses. “I just saw Allura to get a progress report. She said you were here.”

He nods. “She told me that the lion would heal over time. S’just taking his sweet time about it.”

Shiro laughs, and Keith wants to live in the sound. Instead, he gestures to the space next to  him.

“Wanna sit?”

Shiro responds by lowering himself to the ground next to him, mimicking Keith’s cross-legged position. His limbs don’t naturally fold together like Keith’s, the the result is humorous enough to make Keith wish they hadn’t left things on such awkward terms. He keeps his smile to himself.

“It’s funny,” Shiro says. “All the things Black and I went through, and then what you two have gone through together–  I just can’t believe that some random Galra pirate’s weapon modification is what knocked him out of commision.”

Keith huffs a laugh. “Figures, right.”

There’s a beat of silence. Shiro leans back, supporting himself with his hands.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Ok.” Keith says. “I’m healed, but now I have to work on regaining mobility, or something like that.”

Shiro nods, a smile quirking up from the corner of his mouth. “That’s good to hear. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped by as much.”

Keith shrugs. “Duty calls, right?” He gestures to Shiro’s Garrison uniform. “You taking on the night shift too?”

Shiro laughs again, but it has less weight and disappears quickly. He picks at a thread on the brown uniform.

“I was going over reports with Iverson. We received word from the Olkarion that the Galra are close to the Galaxy again.”

Keith sits up. “How close?”

Shiro purses his lips. “Close. One galaxy over.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “What are we doing? Why aren’t we preparing? What’s the plan?”

He makes to get up, but Shiro’s hand lands heavy on his shoulder. “We’re on guard. We have the coalition on our side now. We have the Atlas and Voltron. The chances of attack are very low right now.”

“The Galra aren’t rational, they’re bloodthirsty. Now that they see we have strength they’ll want to challenge it. Sendak was only the beginning.”

“Iverson said–”

“Iverson?” Keith interrupts, standing. “You’re Iverson’s superior now.”

Shiro stands too. “It’s not all about rank all the time. We’re being smart. Lying low. The Galra don’t know that the Black Lion is damaged.”

Keith throws up his hands, ignoring the pain that races up his arm. “We have to be ready with a defense at least. You could send the paladins out, maybe we could scout them out before they get any closer–”

“No.”

Keith whips around, ready for a fight that never comes because Shiro is _right there_ , close enough that Keith can see the black specks in the dark gray of his eyes.

“No?” He swallows back the lump in his throat, his voice quieter now. “The whole point of Voltron is to fight to protect the universe.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I won’t do it.”

“You won’t _fight_?”

Shiro takes Keith’s face between his hands.

“I won’t be the one to give the order. I won’t order you to die for Earth, Keith.”

Keith’s breath rasps from his chest, Shiro’s touch burning as much as his words. His prosthetic is warm. He grips Shiro’s wrists in his own hands, hard enough to make his injured arm ache.

He pushes. Shiro releases him and steps back.

“I’m sorry.”

Shiro’s hands might as well have burned prints onto Keith’s face.

Keith clears his throat. “I don’t need to be protected. I’m the leader of Voltron.”

Shiro looks sick. “I know.”

“I was the leader of Voltron before we got back to Earth.”

“Fuck, Keith I _know_ –”

“And you had no problem ordering me around back when you were the leader–”

“That was different.”

“So what changed?” Keith yells, his voice echoing in the cavernous space. “How is this any different? My arm will get better, it’s not like you–”

Keith stops, wanting to pull his hair out. _It’s not like anything is different. It’s not like you love me any differently than when I was a cadet._ All the options sound childish and petty. He’s not in the habit of backing Shiro into a corner. He’s in the habit of saving him from himself.

He pauses, leveling out his voice. “You don’t owe me anything, Shiro. I know I have a job to do.”

Shiro’s breath shakes. He runs a hand through his hair. When he meets Keith’s eyes, they’re shining.

His breath hitches when Shiro kisses him.

Shiro’s lips are warm and a little dry, the kiss slow and gentle despite the anger that still radiates from them. He kisses Keith’s top lip, drawing out a sigh. He steps closer and kisses him back. Shiro’s hands cradle his face and this time Keith holds on to keep him there.

He wants more. He wants Shiro closer. He balances on his toes to bring them to the same height. He angles his mouth, slanting it closer to Shiro’s to deepen the kiss. Shiro groans deep from his chest, further invading Keith’s space. Shiro’s hands slide down and settle on Keith’s waist, pulling him closer and bringing their bodies flush together. Keith licks into his mouth and lets him, wrapping his good arm around his Shiro’s shoulders and sinking his fingers in his hair.

It’s different from their first kiss, despite the same location. It’s quiet, they’re wearing soft clothes instead of spacesuits, and Shiro isn’t running away.

He runs his fingers over the sleeve covering Keith’s injured arm, and instead of hurting it sends a delicious shiver down his spine. A sound escapes his throat and Shiro pulls back to look at him, pupils blown.

“We could go somewhere.”

“Yes.”

It could have been armed robbery, Keith would have agreed.

“I have a room on the Atlas.”

Keith nods, pulling Shiro back down to kiss him again. Shiro moans into his mouth, and Keith shivers. This kiss has an edge, something darker that had been simmering under the surface for years. Shiro runs his hands down Keith’s back. Over his sides. Sucks on Keith’s bottom lip and then breaks away to kiss down his jaw and neck.

Shiro breaks away, grabbing Keith’s hand and leading him through the labyrinth of hallways. Their footsteps echo off of the walls, the air as still as the vacuum of space. Keith’s heart pounds in his ears, his mind racing too fast for him to keep up.

Shiro stops them in front of a nondescript door. He fumbles with the keypad, entering his code wrong twice before the door unlatches and allows them entry. He leads Keith inside, not turning the lights on. It’s dark save for the emergency light glowing red in the corner.

  
It casts Shiro in warm light. Keith’s fingers brush over the button placket of Shiro’s uniform, and he steps forward, setting to work on undoing them. Shiro touches him while he works. A hand in his hair. A kiss to his neck. Keith’s hands shake.

Once the jacket is off Shiro removes his undershirt himself, reaching for Keith again to steer him towards the bed. Keith shucks his own shirt before sitting down, using his good arm to scoot back while toeing off his boots. They fall to the ground with a thud, and Shiro climbs over him, braced on his forearms.

Keith reaches up, running his hand over the planes of Shiro’s chest and at the juncture where his prosthetic meets his shoulder. There’s heat in his eyes, burning slowly rather than frantic like minutes before. He dips down to kiss him, and Keith wraps his arm around him, reaching for his hips and encouraging Shiro to sink down. He wants to feel his weight on him, desperate to get their bodies together.

Shiro pulls away, his lips red and shining in the dark. He glances over at Keith’s injured arm, nudging him gently to keep it out of the way. Keith adjusts himself, wetness pricking his eyes at the tenderness of he gesture.

“Shiro…” The name feels different here. “Come on–  just–”

Shiro understands, or at least seems to, and he lowers himself enough that their hips meet. Keith moans at the feeling of Shiro hard against him, the fabric between them creating friction as Shiro moves against the crease of Keith’s hip. Shiro’s hard, and it’s dizzying to Keith that he is the cause of it.

Keith wraps his legs around Shiro, urging him to keep going. He sighs, their mouths moving over each other’s in an approximation of a kiss, or something that could be called a kiss if Keith had any control over what he was feeling in that moment. The movement of Shiro against him calls to mind something else, something that could happen one day.

The suggestion of it sends another wave of pleasure through Keith, and he feels a familiar heat behind his eyes, the way he feels during a fight.

Shiro stills, watching him. His prosthetic hand cups Keith’s face. It feels impossibly cold.

“Keith,” he breathes. “You–  your eyes.”

Keith squeezes them shut, willing them to turn back to normal, willing the moment to rewind to thirty seconds ago.

_That’s the Keith I know._

“It’ll go away,” he says, breath shuddering in his chest.

He expects–  he doesn’t know. What he doesn’t expect is for Shiro to kiss his forehead, then his eyelids, moving down to nip at his jaw and whisper in his ear.

“Keith…” His voice is rough. “Look at me. Please.”

Keith swallows, opening his eyes. Shiro watches him without fear or distaste, his eyes filled with something unnamable. The heat is still there, the _want_ , and he gives it his laser focus.

Keith grinds his hips up, and Shiro groans, breaking his gaze. He palms at the waistband of Shiro’s pants, popping the top button and reaching his hand inside to feel the hard length of him. The zipper works its way down as Keith strokes him, something like victory coursing through him as Shiro’s breath stutters and his hips thrust against Keith’s hand.

He pushes Shiro’s pants down with his other hand and they pool around his thighs, giving him better access. Pre-come beads at the tip of Shiro’s cock, and he uses it to smooth the way, counting every moan that he can get from Shiro.

Keith picks up the pace, and his name falls from Shiro’s lips like a mantra. He’s tense, and Keith knows he’s close. He thrusts into the channel of Keith’s hand, back arching as he comes, streaks of white covering Keith’s stomach.

Shiro drops his head, panting against Keith’s shoulder. Knowing that he brought Shiro over the edge propels him, and he pushes Shiro onto his back, ignoring the pain that shoots up his injured arm. He straddles Shiro’s hips, fumbling with the button of his own jeans.

Shiro stares up at him, looking fucked out but running his hands over Keith’s chest, then down, pushing Keith’s jeans away. Keith lifts up onto his knees, getting them down over his hips and freeing his cock. He falls forward, supporting himself with his good arm as he brings himself off against Shiro’s skin. Shiro’s come eases the way, and Keith widens his straddle, bringing them closer together.

Shiro holds him, his hands everywhere, burning through Keith’s skin. He grabs Keith’s ass, kneading in time with his thrusting and encouraging his movements.

“That’s it baby, come on,” Shiro says, his voice wrecked.

Keith buries his face against Shiro’s neck and comes with a shout, the pressure building until he spills between them. He bites down, and Shiro arches against him.

When Keith comes down, the air is hot and still around them. Shiro plays with the hair at the base of his neck. He closes his eyes and rolls off of him, lying flat on his back. The bed shifts as Shiro gets up.

Keith watches him, his head resting against his arm. He disappears into a side bathroom Keith hadn’t noticed before The sink runs for a moment, and Shiro reappears with a cloth in his hand. He lies down next to him, swiping the cloth through the mess on Keith’s stomach. Keith shivers from the cool sensation.

“Sorry,” Shiro says.

“It’s ok.”

They’re speaking in almost whispers, as if they could leave the moment undisturbed if they could only stay quiet enough.

Shiro cleans himself and then disposes of the cloth somewhere. Keith’s heartbeat settles, and they’re alone with their thoughts. They lie face to face, the space between them minimal but feeling like miles.

“Can I hold you?” Shiro asks.

Keith exhales, his chest heavy. He nods.

He arranges himself so that his back is pressed against Shiro’s front, and Shiro wraps an arm around his waist, one hand flat against Keith’s stomach. He can feel the tip of Shiro’s nose buried in his hair.

He’s tired, the ache in his injured arm enough to prove it. Shiro is warm and his body is solid against him. He’s asleep in minutes.

*

*

*

*

When Keith wakes up, it’s still dark. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s inside the Atlas–   inside _Shiro’s bedroom_ on the Atlas–  and that it’s Shiro’s arm around him now. He’s still tired, and is tempted to relax and let sleep overcome him again. His mind is already buzzing, however, flight instincts kicking in.

He carefully ducks out from underneath Shiro’s arm, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He taps the control panel by the bed, the time 2AM. Still the middle of the night.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm to the itch under his skin.

“Keith?”

He sighs, gripping the sides of the bed. He hears the slide of skin against sheets: Shiro sitting up.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Keith nods. Shiro moves again, and then soft light fills the room. Keith reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head. The collar is stretched out. He doesn’t remember that happening.

“I um…” Keith starts, licking his lips. Taking a chance. “It’s not that I didn’t want it— I just want to know what everything means.”

“Of course you do.”

Shiro’s voice is so patient. He speaks without hesitation and Keith blinks away the wetness at his eyes.

“You deserve an explanation, Keith. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

“That’s not true,” Keith responds looking over his shoulder. “You pulled me out of space.”

Shiro huffs a laugh. “Don’t remind me.”

Shiro’s hand appears at his shoulder, tugging gently. Keith melts into the touch, and they lie down facing each other.

A strand of hand falls in front of Shiro’s face. His hair is getting long too. Keith brushes it out of the way, his hand settling on Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro relaxes. “I kissed you before the mission because it was the first time I had given the direct order to send you into danger. Without me.”

Keith nods, encouraging him to continue.

“It was unprofessional,” he says. “But I couldn’t help it. You’re so brave, and so loyal. I realized that— I had been unfair to you.”

Keith brushes his fingers down Shiro’s arm.

“How?” He asks.

“You were wrong before, Keith,” Shiro says, looking down. “I owe you everything.”

Keith furrows his brow, confused. Shiro reaches out, and his fingertips brush the scar on the lower half of Keith’s face.

He shivers.

“Shiro…”

Shiro watches his own hand, or maybe he’s looking at the scar.

“I can’t believe it was me.”

Keith slides a hand up, pulling Shiro’s hand away from his face and lacing their fingers together.

“It wasn’t you.”

A muscle jumps in Shiro’s jaw. “It _was_ though. I remember it all as if it were me. I remember that feeling of having one purpose, so ready to–” He stops, shaking his head.

Keith squeezes his hand. “I wasn’t about to give up on you.”

Shiro nods. “I won’t give up on you, either. You’re the leader of Voltron. I always wanted that for you, and you’re _perfect_ for it. Watching you defend Pidge, how you threw yourself into it, I knew I loved you then.”

Keith’s stomach tightens, the words making him think of the last time he had said them. It’s so quiet inside the Atlas, as if they were the only souls left on Earth. Keith had said it when the world had been crumbling around them.

“I knew before when I was inside the Black Lion’s consciousness, watching you lead and fight without me, like I knew you could,” Shiro says, a smile in his voice. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

Keith kisses him then, his hand snaking between them until he can feel the beat of Shiro’s heart. It’s relaxed, lacking the heat from before but no less deep. They fit together.

He breaks away.

“It’s ok. I’m patient.”

Shiro smiles and rolls him over, making Keith laugh and kissing his neck until the laugh turns into a sigh. Shiro touches him everywhere, using his mouth until Keith is left shaking. Keith tells him he loves him with his fingers buried in Shiro’s hair.

They fall asleep, the Atlas controls alerting them when the sun rises. They gather their things and leave together. They pass the Black Lion’s unit, and Keith grabs Shiro’s hand.

“Let’s check on Black.”

He expects to see the same damage as the night before, all twisted metal and silent consciousness. He’s surprised when he can immediately sense the Lion, how their connection roars strong inside his mind. The cockpit is almost enclosed, the beams and connectors fused back together.

“Huh,” Shiro says, slinging and arm around Keith’s shoulders. “Looks like he made a comeback.”

Keith turns. “I’ll find Allura, let her know.”

Shiro nods, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Keith’s chest tightens.

“Let’s do it together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my little fic! Please don't forget to comment if you have a moment, it is like ambrosia to us fic writers. 
> 
> Come scream about Voltron and Sheith with me on tumblr! destielpasta.tumblr.com


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